Meddling
by SamanthaRose
Summary: A young shaman reaches out to the spirit of the dead wife of an orc she met just the night before... she doesn't even know the man's name, but something about him makes her want to help... She quickly learns that perhaps... she went too far.


(( Author's Warning: The following story contains mature subject matter and is intended for an adult audience. Reader discretion is advised. ))

The sham draped about her shoulders allowed patches of blue skin to show, her back nearly completely exposed, along with the taught muscles of her stomach and the gentle curve of the sides of her breasts. She crouched quietly before the fire, a loincloth strung about her hips and the rest of her bare...

As little touching her as possible, as little to distract her as possible. She needed all her senses for the impending journey, and none of them could be distracted by noise, sight, touch, smell or taste.

All she needed to smell was the fire. All she needed to feel was the air around her. All she needed to hear was the beating of her own heart. All she needed to taste was the bitter smoke that blew from the wood that burned before her.

All she needed to see was nothingness.

All she needed to remember was the name.

Zeerti.

Zeerti... She called the name out silently in her mind, pushed away everything else slowly and reached out to the woman who had held the name. She sat in the place the woman had died, feet and knees resting on the thirsty earth that had taken the blood that was leftover when the dogs had finished devouring her and her unborn children. She felt the anguish that rose up from the dust, the memories of this place, but she pushed them away as well.

Zeerti...

It was easy to call up the face in her mind, easy to see her amongst the other spirits that crowded this wartorn land. It was easy...

i"Get her away... she remind me of... someone..."/i

She remembered suddenly that she had never asked the warrior, the orc, his name when they spoke last night. She remembered telling him, again and again, "I don't know you."

Push them away, she thought. Push them away... remember only her, find her, speak to her, bring her close and ask her why. Remember her.

Zeerti.

It happened slowly, and she was unsure of how many moments had passed, long moments, since she had settled herself down in the red earth beneath the simple roof of the simple house. Hours, maybe? Moments? Seconds... heartbeats, shallow breaths.

She didn't know, she didn't ask, and her efforts did not go unnoticed. For from the nothingness that filled her mind, the one who belonged to the name came. She came so suddenly, it almost broke the concentration needed to hang on.

iWha's yo' name?/i

The voice was gentle, but at once, cold and demanding. Her voice was husky, and the tone suggested it would be best to answer. Answer quickly.

"Fael'ly."

iWho d'you t'ink choo'a'?/i

Concentrate, Fael'ly reminded herself, and her determination to see this through kept her from breaking off her efforts in the face of this fierce spirit.

"Jus' a gi'l." She replied, barely above a whisper, a breath.

A harsh laugh followed.

iJes' a gi'l, choo be... meddlin'./i

A long moment passed before she was able to respond, and Fael'ly wet her lips, voice still soft as she spoke.

"I me' a man."

iChoo me' a man./i

Zeerti spoke in a condescending manner, a purr that mocked her, chided her. Fael'ly found herself briefly wondering if the woman had always been this way, or if death had changed her.

"I me' a man who loves choo. An' who worrehs dat him wife follow choo foo'steps." She kept her responses short, to the point. She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold out before needing to break away. She had pushed too far, as it was... lingered too long.

Zeerti's answers were quick.

iShe no' a Fros'troll... no one have quarrels wit her.../i Each syllable was articulate, the cold tone not leaving the spirits voice.

"I can' make him see."

iChoo weak./i

"Stron' enough ta find choo, ta brin' choo he'a', ta ask choo fo' he'p."

iChoo no' much.../i

It was then that the presence of the spirit grew so strong, Fael'ly was sure the woman was in the room with her, right there in front of her, on level with her... almost as if she wasn't a spirit at all.

iLook a' meh./i

Fael'ly paused a long time before chancing to open her eyes. Would opening them break the line that tethered her? Would it make Zeerti's presence disappear? Would it cause her to fail in her efforts to bring peace to a man whose name she didn't know?

It was worth a try...

So she opened her eyes slowly, her vision growing accustomed to the sudden light of the fire and the sudden dark outside. She was still and silent, barely daring to breathe for a long moment as she gazed at the space before her.

As her vision adjusted, she swore she could be looking in a mirror. But when her vision finally cleared, she saw the subtle differences. Then the differences became glaringly obvious.

She was taller than Fael'ly, even kneeling, almost a head taller. Her tusks were longer, more elegantly curved, but pitted and grooved as well, slightly discolored. It was the only thing about her that wasn't immaculate... the Frost Troll, the spirit of the woman before her... Zeerti. Zeerti was stunning, striking, unique. Her blue hair was silky and fine, streaming down over the paler blue flesh of her shoulders, onto the generous swell of her breasts. Her hips were wide... she had died a mother, after all, or a mother soon to be... and her legs were strong. Her muscles rippled beneath her flesh as she moved... would have if she were living, of course... and her hands sported perfectly kept, blue lacquered nails that Fael'ly could almost feel on her flesh as one of Zeerti's hands came to rest on her shoulder, the other on her cheek.

Those deep red eyes stared down at her with an unwavering, unnerving gaze, cold as her tone had been, and a slight smile turned up the woman's lips.

Fael'ly stared, completely still.

iChoo no' much.../i The spirit repeated, the smile growing larger, ever so slightly larger. And when she next spoke, she spoke in a lilting trollish, a husky laugh escaping her. Fael'ly heard the voice, felt the voice, but it wasn't the voice that made her eyes widen.

It was the hand on her cheek sweeping slowly backwards to drag perfect nails through her raven hair, the hand that slid down her arm, closed over it in a firm grip. It was the sudden realization that she had gone too far...

Too, too far.

It was Zeerti's cold lips meeting her own and the breath that they shared... the pressure of the spirit surging inwards, into her, through her, leaving her gasping for air. It was the echoing silence that followed as the chill lingered on her flesh...

iBut you'll do.../i


End file.
